Turn and Face It
by ThisStrawberryIsYours
Summary: To protect his little sister, Two-Bit's mother sent her to where no one would ever hurt her again. When she comes home, she will have to face more than her brother or the gang ever imagined. **revised version of "Here"** VERY different!
1. Home,Sweet,Home

**Author's Note**: Hello people! I have posted this here before, so if it seems familiar that's why. I decided to change the direction of this fic dramatically, meaning that I am going to have to repost it. **There ARE differences**! This will be very different then the first version I posted. A few changes will make an appearance in this chapter, but things will definitely be swerving in a different lane next chapter!

_Anyways! I hope you enjoy this version! __**Please R and R**__! ;p_

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**~Chapter One~**

**Home, Sweet, Home**

I don't remember it being this hot here.

The air was ungenerously hot and humid, a heavy kind of air that weighed upon you, making it tiresome to breathe. Sweat trickled from my temple and slid passed my chin, stopping only to be absorbed by my blouse. The fabric was beautiful- a cream colored material accented by a thin sheet of lace. It was delicate and simple. It was my favorite blouse. The feminine piece of clothing fitted me perfectly and made me feel prettier than what I knew I was. But, right now, I wouldn't waste a single second hesitating to rip it off my body. The offending material was clinging to me in places too inappropriate in the stifling heat to be comfortable.

I glanced out the open window. My gaze darted back and forth then side to side in an effort to notice each house as we drove by. Large, clean houses with up-kept yards and brand new shudders -some even with white-picked fences- greeted me when the beat-up Grey Hound Bus dropped me off on the West side of town. These were the kind of houses that lay in perfect order along the sidewalk; the kind of houses that people like me can only dream of, only sneer and poke fun at. Well, not necessarily the houses, but more so the "wonderful" people that lived in them. The people, the Socials, are what society would deem the better half.

The houses began to change. The picturesque neighborhood faded away and was replaced by a more familiar one. The East side was very different from the West side. Here, there were no white-picked fences or brand new shutters. People made due and well with what they had, and what they had wasn't much. It was a different world from the one the Socials, or Socs, lived in. This was a world inhabited by another set of people, the Greasers. Both groups stayed on their own turf, and neither took too kindly when someone from another group wandered out of where they were _suppose to be_. God help them if they did. The Greasers were like hoods- robbing, destroying, fighting and the like. They traveled in separate gangs, but through it all, stuck together. Greasers were the perfect "bad boys" , with their tight blue jeans, t-shirts, and slicked back, grease covered hair. The Socs, well, they were the exact opposite, always clean and expensive. Socs were no hoods, but if they caught a Greaser on their turf they could be just as "nice" as one. Only worse. They might've looked clean, but they were just as dirty as the rest of us misfit youth…even if no one believed it.

I tried to remember what it was like to live in this neighborhood. It wasn't hard, but I wish it were. For so long I locked this place in the back of my mind, never letting it exist but in my nightmares. Since I was eight- since _that night_- sleep was a luxury not easily come by. Every night was the same nightmare, every night was the same thing. Very soon, night became one of the few things I personally hated. I never did understand hate. Never wanted to waste my time, to damage my spirit with the effort. But in this I felt hatred was justified. It wasn't easy to hate the night. What I wanted to hate was _him_…but I knew better. Grams taught me better. I couldn't disappoint her. Couldn't bear to be frowned upon by what she knew, _Who_ she knew. My heart couldn't take it.

The worn-down, old car jerked with a start as the light turned green. I was brought out of my thoughts as the heat once again made itself viciously known. Once again I was uncomfortable. I suddenly felt claustrophobic and to keep myself preoccupied with anything but the idea of non-escape, I began to do what I usually do in these instances. I fiddled. My hands moved from the boiling hot dashboard, to my sides ,and back to the dashboard again. When _I _started to be my own annoyance, I settled for resting my hands on my skirt clad lap. Determined to be comfortable if only by force of will alone. My fingers twitched. I longed to move around, to run my fingers through my hair, twist, spin, whatever! But I remained reluctantly firm.

My restlessness didn't go unnoticed by my companion. Keith looked at me from the corner of his eye. He cracked a grin and I had to smile. My brother's smile was one thing I would never forget. It was a tooth-bearing grin, split from ear to ear, and it never left his face. He was truly a character, my brother. We didn't look much alike- he took after mom and I took after…not mom. His hair was a different color than mine. While his was a dark brownish-auburn, mine was a medium blonde color that had streaks of a lighter shade appearing sporadically throughout the entire curly mess. Thick sideburns ran down the corners of his face and was the only patch of hair on his head not coated with an unnecessary amount of grease. Just like a Greaser. Like his never ending smile, his humor remained in tact. Keith found amusement in everything, even when there shouldn't be anything funny at all. He never cared, never planned, never took things seriously. These were all his greatest and worst characteristics. He was notorious for fighting, shoplifting, and his black-handled switchblade, which he only acquired because of the before mentioned skill, if you would call shoplifting a skill. He had eyes as grey as his smile was wide. His eyes were grey, no question. My eyes were unmark able, a strange blend of my brother and mother's grey, and they were green. I try not to think about that particular generic trait or where it came from. It was a beautiful color green, practically emerald. The fact the color was so stunning was unavoidable. It only disgusted me.

"You're bein awful quiet over there, Dani."

He smiled that ear splitting smile again, but this time I could see the sarcasm laid behind his strait teeth. I let my own grin slip across my face and decided to tease him.

"And why would I wanna talk to you?"

" 'Cause a couple of weeks every summer isn't enough time for me to hear the sweet, angelic voice of my darlin' sister." He gushed, smile still in place.

I laughed. He was right. A couple of weeks in a year for the past eight years wasn't enough. When mom sent me to Kansas to live with Grams she was doing it for my own good, I know that. Still, when you're eight and you don't understand why things are the way they are, and all you want is your older brother, things don't make as much sense as they should. Thankfully, mom came down to visit every summer, bringing my older brother with her. But, I don't want to think about that.

"You're so full of it, Keith!"

I giggled at his expression. The look on his face was borderline confusion, almost like he forgot his real name. "Don't call me that, _Danielle_." He growled good-naturedly, emphasizing my name as if to prove his point. Barely anybody called me Danielle unless it was a stranger or they were being serious. I have always been Dani, and on one occasion DanDan. The latter is never to be mentioned by anyone ever! The last time I was called DanDan was in 5th grade by my cousin Gregg from North Dakota. He ended up with his head in the sandbox and a bloody nose. Grams laughed about that one for years.

"Whatever! What is it people call you?" I was teasing him and he knew it. "Oh, yea…Two-Bit!"

"Ha ha, Dani." Was his sarcastic reply.

Two-Bit. That's what he goes by. Always has. He's a wisecraker and couldn't stop telling jokes to save his life. He'd argue 'til his head explodes and he couldn't help but put his two-cents into everything. Hence the name Two-bit. Only I, his annoying baby sister, is allowed to call him Keith.

Laughter filled the car as we continued down an achingly familiar street. It was nice to laugh with him again. I missed goofin' whenever we were apart from each other. Earlier that day as I took that last step off the bus, I saw him standing with his head bowed by an old car. He had his hands in his pockets and I feared that things were going to be awkward between us, which was the very thing I dreaded. I didn't by any means want to feel unwelcome by my own brother, one of my favorite people in the world. True, we are as close as a brother and a sister can be, but we still have much issues with each other. I think its good for him to argue with someone that wont judge him, though. I may not agree with the things he does or what the Greasers do and certainly what the Socs do, but he's my family, and the Greasers are his family. That's good enough for me. Hopefully, me bein' Two-Bits little sister will be enough for them to respect me a little? I dunno.

Yea, my brother was a hood. He drank to much, stole everything in sight, and never shut up. He liked fights, blondes, and for some reason school. He was eighteen and a half and still a junior in high school. He was almost two years my elder and in my grade, probably my class. I don't care. I love him, no matter how many years we were separated between visits. I hate new things. New experiences make me antsy. I crave similarity and cling to all things familiar. Two-Bit being near me offers just that. He's my stability on this physical earth, and for a reason I cant explain I realize that as much as I may need him that _he needs to be needed_.

"So," I started, "Who's car is this, anyway? Yours?"

He shook his head. "Nah, it aint mine."

"Oh?"

"It's Steve's. He's at work with Soda. He let me use it to pick you up. "

"That was nice of him." I answered, being polite.

He nodded. "Yea, I guess." There was a pause before he said, "We're gonna head out to the Curtis' after we unload your stuff. You can unpack later. There's plenty of time for that!"

"Uh, sure?" I was uncertain about this whole thing. I mean, I know the Curtis' from way back when we were all kids, but that was then. Now, I'm just a little uneasy. Things have changed so much and so have I. Considering things were the way they were, it was difficult to make best out of the situation.

From the corner of my eye I saw Two-Bit grin. I turned to him, lifting up an eyebrow as if to ask "what?". He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly but his grin only grew. "Don't worry, sis! I'm sure you'll be fine. I mean its just us Greasers." He started laughing a little. "Besides ya might even like it."

"Huh." I bit my lip and tilted my head. He was about to egg me on, I knew it. "And why is that?"

"Oh, I dunno." Came his indifferent response. "Just that girls seem to like bein around the Curtis Brothers a lot. Especially with Sodapop there. He's irresistible to the ladies."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure."

He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Uh-huh. I bet you wouldn't last two minutes around Darry or Soda without blushin' one good time."

"I don't make bets, Keith," He glared. "Two-Bit," I amended. "Especially stupid bets."

"Sure."

"No, seriously." He only laughed in response. A deep laugh that said he didn't believe me and he was wanting to make me mad. It was working. I was aggravated.

By the time the car rolled to a screeching halt I had calmed down. I closed my eyes and noticed that my breathing was surprisingly steady. I turned my head and when I opened my eyes I was facing the place where everything started. The place I vowed never to return to again. My hand shook as I laid it on the inside of the door. I felt torn leather against my fingertips before my hand finally grasped the handle. Summoning all my strength, I stumbled out of Steve's car. My knees were wobbling, but before they could buckle I heard my brother's voice telling me to hurry up. Once I was sure my feet was on the ground greater than I had a hold on reality, I nodded.

"Home, Sweet, Home." I whispered sullenly before looking towards the sky.

_God, what am I doing here?_

* * *

_Again, this WILL BE VERY DIFFERENT then the first version! _

_Please R and R! Tell me what you think :D_


	2. Kitty Posters and Sacs of Potatoes

** ~Chapter Two~**

**Kitty Posters and Sacs of Potatoes**

The screen door slammed against my backside after I stumbled through with my last suitcase. I took a few steps forward and looked back. The sunlight scattered different shapes across the living room floor, twitching across the matted carpet. I turned my head away from the sunlight and allowed my gaze to wander. Everything was the way I remembered it. An old, maroon sofa I jumped up and down on during life's more calmer moments- which usually meant certain persons were absent from the house- was sitting idly to my left against a beige colored wall. In front of the couch was a small piece of wood that was better suited for a secretary's work station, but settled fine as a coffee table. The TV sat stationary from the adjacent wall the couch-monstrosity was leaning against. It was a black and white TV with a half-torn off knob. The thing had seen better days, I'm sure.

My mind was alerted back to the present when a loud thump followed by a series of swear words reached my ears. I cringed at some of the more colorful language that escaped my brother's mouth. I let it slide, though…considering it was _my_ suitcase he tripped over.

"Oh, my…" I rushed over to help him. He swatted me away aggravatingly, refusing to accept my hand as he climbed to stand on his own two feet. "I am so sorry, Two-Bit!"

He huffed as he popped a non-existent collar from around his neck- I assume out of habit from the one leather-jacket he owns and values greater than his life. I put my hand over my mouth, but didn't bother to hide the fact that I was amused, managing to let out a very "lady-like" snort. The sound was embarrassing for a girl to make, but I didn't care. I only laughed harder.

He sent a mock-glare my way before cocking his head to the side and pointing a finger at me. His finger was annoyingly close to my face so I batted it out of the way. Two-Bit's mouth tilted to the side. "Watch where your puttin' your stuff or next time I'll move it for ya'!" When the only response I had was to continue laughing, he rolled his eyes and turned to sit on the couch. "Well, hurry up, kid. We gotta get over to the Curtis'."

I shook my head. "Yea, yea. I'm goin'!" I reached down to grab my suitcase only to drop it back on the floor again. It was heavy! I huffed and blew a stray curl from my face. "You could help, ya' know!"

"I know."

An irritated growl rumbled in my throat. Two-Bit remained lounging on the couch as I trudged my way up the small fleet of stairs. With a mighty heave, I threw my suitcase onto my old bed. I stared at the suitcase with misplaced aggression. It really wasn't fair to the suitcase. I mean, it wasn't its fault that my brother was a lazy cow. "One down, two to go."

My hand seemed to rise on it's own volition to wipe another trail of sweat from my forehead. Heat seemed to gain on me in rushing force. The air around me was heavy and sticky, not made any more bearable by my recent exertions. Dragging suitcases up stairs isn't exactly a cooling exercise. My eyes drifted shut as a wave of dizziness washed over me. I hated when it was this hot. Ever since I can remember heat made me sick, like it reached to my stomach and pulled it to my throat. Summer was one of my favorite seasons, though. How ironic. I took a few deep, steady breaths, imagining the hot air around me was instead cool and refreshing. The dizzy spell passed, but my eyes remained closed. I was afraid to open them, afraid that I would see my nightmares displayed in front of me in the real world. There was no longer amusement in talking to suitcases, or the dreary act of carrying them upstairs to keep me preoccupied. All was silent. I was left alone to face the world around me.

I kept my eyes closed for just a bit longer, attempting to avoid my nightmarish confrontation. I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. When I thought of how ridiculous I was being I decided to open my eyes. After all, being afraid of a room? Not tuff at all, my brother would say.

"You're not a little girl anymore. Stop being stupid."

I was surprised.

My old room had undergone a complete transformation and for a second I thought I had walked into the wrong bedroom. The once baby-blue walls were now red and vibrant. It was recently painted and I could tell whoever the painter, or painters, were didn't really know what they were doing. I didn't care. I was grateful. The purple of the bedspread clashed horribly with the newly painted walls, but somehow it worked for me. Where there were once dollhouses and beat-up teddy bears, now there were a small dresser and a vanity-mirror. Beside that was the most ludicrous thought of what a sixteen year-old girl would possibly want, a Kitty Poster.

"So, I guess you found your room okay."

I nodded. "Uh-huh. You redecorated?" I turned to see Keith leaning against the open door frame with his head turned down. It was the closest to sheepish I have ever seen my over-confident and goofy brother.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yea. Darry and some of the guys helped paint. Aunt Josie said it was a good idea."

That explained the paint splotches all over the floor and ceiling. I smiled as I imagined my brother and his "tuff" Greaser friends decorating. I lifted my hand and gestured around the room. "She was right. Thanks."

He nodded. "Where is Josie, anyhow?" I asked.

"Work."

"Still?"

"Yea. Double-shift. A girl went into labor and she's fillin' her spot." Aunt Josie was Two-Bit's legal guardian. Sense Grams is gone and mom's been dead for years, that means Josie is my guardian as well. I was only 16, where else would I have gone? I shuddered to think of the possibility. Aunt Josie wasn't bad. She was kind and loud and warm…she was a lot like Keith. A lot like mom was. It hurts to think about mom. I don't do it much, but I guess standing in the last room I saw her alive would be as good a time as any to risk it.

Keith rubbed his hands together and smiled that familiar smile. "Times 'a wastin', Dani! The sun's going down. Now, hurry up! I wanna make it to the Curtis' before it starts getting dark."

I nodded. When I turned my head to look out the window I came face to face with a big-eyed, furry kitten. I cracked a wry grin and pointed to the poster. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

The smile almost instantly left his face and his grey eyes darkened. I wondered what I said to upset him so much. He licked his lips before he replied. "Not really."

I lifted an eyebrow in confusion. What happened to my happy-go-lucky brother? I saw his hands clench into fists at his sides and suddenly I remembered. I returned my gaze back to the poster. Now, the thing didn't seem so ludicrous. My eyes were unblinking and my breathing was uncontrollable as it shook in my lungs. I raised my hand to one corner of the poster, leaving it there, hesitating before moving it slowly to the right. My breath stopped altogether as my hand stopped. Almost in the center of the kitten's head, the poster covered a large hole about the size of a fist.

A man's fist.

_His _fist.

I jumped a little when I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. Keith's voice brought me crashing back to reality for the second time today. "Danielle let's-let's not do this right now, 'k?" He grasped my elbow gently and started to lead me to the doorway. "Come on. Steve is probably wonderin' what I've done with his car."

"What about the rest of my stuff?"

I heard him sigh beside me. "We'll get it put up later."

"Right."

I glanced inside the room that a minute ago I was happy to see changed. Now, I noticed it hasn't really changed at all. The memories are still here. You cant change what's been and gone.

_I have never been more appreciative of cutsie, kitty posters as I have in this moment._

* * *

The ride to the Curtis' wasn't long and only slightly uncomfortable.

Keith had shaped back into the familiar prankster everyone knew and loved him to be. The incident back in my room was left there, and for that I was content. All thoughts of kitty posters and man-made holes in walls were abandoned as Steve's car puffed and gurgled to a stop.

The Curtis house was another thing that hasn't changed. Paint chips were barely hanging on the walls and vines overshadowed most of the right side of the house. Other than that, everything was the same. Despite all the much needed repairs, the place was well took care of. The front yard was mowed and the inside was clean, well, as clean as a house full of boys could be. The worn-down, old house still had that cozy feel- the comfort I didn't feel at my own home.

When I stepped inside the kitchen, the first thing to register in my mind was the smell of chocolate cake baking. The second was the unpredictable feeling of running into something and then falling to the floor. I wasn't prepared to be knocked over by a big guy, but before I knew what happened I was on my back. A large smack could be heard from where my head hit the floor, and a dull ache was starting to grow like an afterthought.

Darrell Curtis stood above me with a confused expression taking over his otherwise emotionless face. Darry was a lot different than the last time I saw him. Of course, the last time I saw him he was only eleven. He was big and had nice muscles, probably from the sports I remember Keith telling me he excelled in. He looked about six-feet-two with near black hair; hair that I noticed was delightfully ungreased, but still kind of long. He's got the same pale blue-green ice colored eyes I remembered from when I was nine and had the world's largest crush on him. Darry looked just like his father did. It was kinda scary.

Darry opened his mouth to say something, but before he got the chance to push the words out Keith came in, invading the small kitchen with his large personality. "Hey, Superman! I see you've become reacquainted with Dani."

Darry looked from me to Keith. I was happy his icy colored eyes weren't on me anymore. He was gorgeous, even covered in cake mix and sweat, wearing an apron. I looked like an idiot sprawled out on the floor the way I was, my hair frizzy and wild thanks to the hot day. " This is Danielle Mathews?"

"The one and only," my brother answered for me.

I attempted to sit up as quietly as I could manage. I tried to not make a scene-well, a bigger scene then the one I had already made- as the two greaser boys chatted away, but a sharp pain stabbed the left side of my head, just above my ear. I touched the spot gingerly, blood tinting my fingers a gross red color when I pulled them away. Looking to my left, I noticed that I was suspiciously close to the open door that lead into the kitchen. I must have hit my head against the side of it, I thought.

"I'm sorry," Darry said as he looked back down at me. I put my hand over the newly discovered wound, feeling embarrassed over the ridiculous situation and not wanting to be made a fuss over.

"It's okay."

"No, I shoulda been paying attention to what I was doin'. And to think I keep yellin' at Pony for not watching where he's walkin' "

I shook my head, which proved to be a very stupid thing to do. My head was throbbing and I was feeling dizzy again. Stupid heat! "I could be sayin' the same thing. Besides, I did kinda sneak up on ya." He looked like he was going to disagree, but I quickly opened my mouth to reassure him. "Really, it's my fault." I looked away from his form when it started to become difficult to concentrate on. Way to make an introduction. "You're not suppose to just walk in people's houses that you haven't seen in years like you own it, Danielle. Even if it does smell like cake."

I looked back up at Darry. He was looking back, but I think he thought I was crazy. "Sorry," I said after a flustering heartbeat, "I tend to talk to myself when I do something stupid."

His emotionless face broke into a smile. "That's alright, I'm used to it."

My brother nodded. "Yea, Pony's always ramblin' about something he's done."

"Ponyboy?" I asked. "I haven't seen him sense he was a little kid, practically a toddler."

"He ain't much of a little kid anymore. Even if I do treat him like one," said Darry. " I figure he should be in his room., probably asleep." He looked at me and shook his head. "You aint much of a little kid either, Dani. Why, your practically a woman."

I managed to restrain from blushing at his comment. A hard thing to do considering I was still sprawled on the floor, looking up at him with a dazed expression. I couldn't help that last part, I thought as I fought to keep my eyes focused on the men in front of me. It was becoming difficult to do anything, I noticed. The cut on my forehead was blazing like a growing fire and I could feel the blood start to swell behind my hand. The dizzy feeling I hated so much was more than I could deal with, so I laid down completely, not caring about the concerned looks I was receiving from my brother and Darry.

"You okay, there, Sis?"

My breathing was heavy and my vision wasn't just unfocused anymore, it was getting blurry. "Sure," I groaned. My lids fluttered like psychotic butterfly wings, flying nowhere, but I took comfort in the fact that I was at least trying to make sense of what was in front of me.

The door leading to the living room flung open, hitting me in the shoulder. The impact didn't bother me, but the force of it vibrated to my head, making a not so delightful ringing sound. A boy walked through the door, taking the attention off me for a second. Knowing that two pairs of eyes weren't centered on me alleviated a small burden.

"Who's the girl? And why is she laying on the floor?" The voice was a little higher than Keith's and Darry's, but it had a mature quality to it, like he was on the verge of manhood. They exchanged a few words, some of which I didn't catch.

Darry spoke. "Watch what you're doin', kid!" His voice wasn't as chastising as the command called for, but was almost playful, if not a little worn out, like they've been over this many other times. "This is Danielle Mathews, Two-Bit's little sister. You remember her, dontcha? Dani used to come over all the time and play around with the gang."

So this was Ponyboy? The six-year-old kid I remembered had grown up. His light-brown, almost red hair was messy from sleep. His eyes were almost the same color as mine, greenish-grey, and they watched me curiously for a minute. My vision was getting cloudy, again, but I could tell that like his older brother, Ponyboy was handsome.

"Yea, I remember her." I knew Pony was smiling as he spoke. "How have you been, Dani?"

Lifting your head and looking at the person who addressed a question at you is generally the polite thing to do. Me, being an idiot, tried to do just that. I opened my mouth, and when I found my voice, said, "I'm…good. How are y---"

I was cut off, mid-sentence. Pony was a cutie, but he interrupted me when I finally could think straight. "Oh, my gosh! What happened?" His voice was almost a screech. It was painful to hear.

"What are you talkin' about, Ponyboy?"

"Two-Bit, she's bleeding!"

"Crap!" I could feel my brother get on his knees beside me and take my hand away from my head. As reluctant as I was to let him see, I was also scared. My eye lids were getting heavy. "That's a lot of blood! Darry?!"

"What?" I squeaked. The idea of my head bleeding, and a lot, was enough to make me nauseous. My head was banging like a drum and getting too heavy for me to hold up. What was going on, I wondered. I didn't hit my head that hard, I mean, surely? I remembered the loud smack from when my head first met the floor, and thought, that yes, I could've hit my head that hard.

My brother shifted over to make room for another body. A bigger body, one that belonged to the eldest Curtis brother. His fingers were gentle as they examined the damage, but I hissed. "Sorry, Darlin'." His voice was barely a whisper and I barely heard him, but it still hurt.

"Listen," He said, as my eyes drifted shut, "I'm pretty sure you have a concussion. That means you can't close your eyes." Too late, my eyes were already shut. Warm breath hit my forehead in little puffs as he patted the side of my cheek with the palm of his hand. "Come on," he said, and I groaned in response. "Open 'em up."

I obeyed, but very slowly. It was hard to stay awake with my head as bloated as it felt, and the heat wasn't helping either. "Ugh, I hate the heat."

"Yea, that's probably making this as bad as it is." I heard my brother say from behind me. "Heat has always made her sick. When we were little, she would pass out come summertime all the time. It worried mom silly!"

"Could be," said Darry. "I think I remember that, now that you mention it. Dad had to carry her to your house once. I think we were climbin' trees or somethin'." I felt two arms slide under my legs and around my shoulders, lifting me in the air. My legs tingled as they dangled. "Pony, open the door, would ya? I'm gonna lay her on the couch. Two-Bit, grab a towel. She's bleedin' something fierce. "

"What are you gonna do?" I asked. Rough material from a worn, familiar couch molded to fit my body as Darry laid me down.

Darry was looking at my brother. "I know what I would do, but it's up to you."

"Hospital?"

"Yep."

Keith nodded. "Alrighty then. I don't know what Steve is gonna do, though. I'm gonna have to take his car, and you know how Evie gets when he misses a date." He chuckled. "Boy, is she gonna lay into him!"

"I guess I'm gonna have to tell Scout that the movies are a no-go tonight." Pony said from a chair on the right.

I was confused. "Why would you say that?" He blushed then shrugged.

"Cause Superman, here, won't let the kiddies go unless I go with them." Keith replied as he lit a cigarette. I watched the flame from the lighter as it ignited the small weed, and continued to watch the embers as they burned in my brother's hand. Finally, I felt my eyes close again.

"Dani, what's your favorite color?" Pony asked loudly, making me open my eyes.

"Um…" I mumbled, trying to pull this small information from wherever you keep common knowledge about yourself.

"Why are you askin' her that?" Keith wondered aloud.

"Darry told me to ask her questions to help keep her awake." He shuffled from the chair he was sitting in to squat in front of me. I didn't even notice Darry wasn't standing in the living room anymore. "He also told me to tell you that he'll take her to the hospital."

Keith nodded. "Cool deal."

Cool deal, I wondered. I wasn't sure what to make out of this. First of all, I don't really know these people anymore, the gang. All I know of them are fuzzy memories of skinned knees and shy gestures that only kids could find secretive. Second, I was incredibly embarrassed. I changed my mind, I hate the summer. If it wasn't for the heat and what it does to me, I probably wouldn't be in this ridiculous mess. Third, and most importantly, I have an extreme fear of hospitals. They were too clean, too sanitized, and my earliest memories up 'til now consist of people I care about dieing behind their white walls. The only people who knew this was Grams and Mom, and no one's gonna get it out of them anytime soon. _What a terrible joke for my mind to make, right now_.

Darry entered a moment later, sans a shirt, and hollered, "Two-Bit, you go pick up Soda and Steve while I take her to the ER. Pony, talk to her, ok? Make sure she stays awake."

Pony nodded in a bored fashion as Darry retreated back to wherever he came from. "Yea, I know, I know." Keith was already out the door.

Pony looked at me with big eyes that were far to curious to be from such a quiet boy. I decided to answer a previous question. "Purple."

"Huh?"

"My favorite color is purple."

He smiled at me and conversation started from there. We talked about everything! My life in Kansas, their lives in Tulsa, work, school, Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston, the passing of Mr. and Mrs. Curtis…everything.

I took in everything around me, this moment, and I decided that having friends around like Pony and Darry wouldn't be such a bad thing. _Wouldn't be a bad thing at all_. Darry was strong and protective, but carried a sort of grace about him that couldn't be ignored. He would do anything for his friends, for the Greasers, his Family. Ponyboy had a big heart. He was quiet and kind and he had this sort of glow that made him golden.

The Curtis' were quickly making Tulsa a place I could at least half-way tolerate. Maybe a little more than that.

The sun was almost completely gone, its rays dulled by the dark blanket night brings, when Darry stepped from the hallway completely dressed and announcing that he was ready. He grabbed his keys from a nearby mantle and walked over to where I was nearly losing my battle to stay awake on the couch.

Pony moved so that Darry could swoop me up and carry me to the door. "I can try to walk. You don't have to carry me; I'm probably heavy."

"Oh, yea! You're such a _cow_!" Pony joked.

"Shut it," Darry warned. I could feel his words as he talked from where my head was nestled in his chest- they rumbled before escaping through his voice. "You can't even keep your eyes open. I ain't risking you getting hurt even worse because you fall or run into somethin' "

What could I say to that? Nothing is what.

I couldn't argue with him, not now. Maybe the hospital was what I needed. I mean, I've heard that when you have a concussion, closing your eyes might result in never being able to open them again. I'm not sure if that's true or not, but I wasn't about to take any chances. Suddenly I was afraid. I was afraid enough to let a man I just met after years of separation drive me to the hospital alone. Fear wasn't something I feel very often, but when I do it consumes me for blinding moments at a time. I've perfected a mask, though, for such occasions. It was difficult to place on.

I guess I'm glad that me being "injured"(which I still believe is ridiculous) gives me the free card on this one. No one expects an injured girl to be content. A good thing, too, for I was anything but as the eldest Curtis opened the screen door, carrying me in his arms. I was useless at the moment, slumped up against Darry like a sac of potatoes that couldn't do anything for themselves. I didn't like this, not one bit. In a normal situation on a normal day, I would have made it a point to voice this, and usually in a repetitious fashion- it was one of my worst faults, I'll admit. Of course, I didn't do this.

The gate creaking silenced the noise of the crickets, but only for an instant, and a warm breeze influenced a curl or two to tickle my face and neck. I let these things overwhelm me, let them concern my mind with pleasant thoughts as Darry opened the door to his beat up old truck and placed me inside. Darry closed my door and I slumped against it, relived by how it didn't move, didn't carry me somewhere else. I heard Darry open the driver's side and situate himself before the jingling of keys and the rumbling of an engine drowned him out. The truck shifted back then forward, spitting gravel at a couple of trashcans as we headed for the main road. 'Never mind,' I thought, 'this thing is gonna carry me somewhere, too. And to a place I hate.'

If I hadn't given up glaring at innocent objects because of my misfortune, this piece of metal junk would be on the receiving end of a death glare. I thought about that for a moment…Sometimes my mind really is strange.

_Oh, this should be a blast._

* * *

**_PLEASE R and R! Tell me what you think, and if you've read the other version, tell me what you think of the changes._**


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